


Rooftops

by myracingthoughts



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Protective Bucky Barnes, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 22:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30079257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myracingthoughts/pseuds/myracingthoughts
Summary: And sure, no one had tasked him to keep an eye out or convinced him not to. No one asked him to make note of her tea preferences (milky chai) or how she tried to eat vegetarian most of the time. But he was observant. It was part of his training. And if anyone had asked Bucky, he’d have blamed it on circumstance or timing, maybe even convenience. Anything but the truth.Because the truth was, evenhedidn’t really know why.---Bucky and Wanda bond as they work to get back on the team post-Ultron. Canon divergent, not Civil War compliant.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Wanda Maximoff
Comments: 9
Kudos: 55





	Rooftops

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was requested by anon for the ‘being protective’ intimacy prompt.

She hadn’t been there a week, and Bucky Barnes could see it a mile away.

The pacing. The watchful eyes darting across every room Wanda entered. Even the way she balled her hands into fists, pulling the cuffs of her sweater sleeves — always oversized, engulfing her body — over her knuckles. Over the stacks of rings piled on each of her fingers. Crossing her arms like she was always cold. Always covered, always just out of reach, always watchful, even behind the brown hair that often curtained her face.

Wanda Maximoff was never truly at rest.

They were all defensive postures. Some might have assumed nervous, but Bucky could spot that particular brand of anxiety and/or PTSD anywhere. It came from captivity. He’s bet every cent to his name on it.

Bucky hadn’t said much in the way of words to anyone, really. Well, outside of his mandated therapy appointments, at least. And beyond Steve introducing the two when she’d first arrived at the facility, Wanda hadn’t spoken much either. 

To _anyone_. 

He’d picked up something about losing her brother in the middle of an op. Evil robots, switching sides to do the right thing. Some Eastern European country that had nearly been knocked off the map. 

So, knowing his own backstory was more of a dark grey than black or white, Bucky kept his distance at first, not wanting to spook her.

Until he saw that look— just when she finally decided to leave the safety of her Stark-appointed room. 

Something about it ate at the pit of his stomach, made him wonder how exactly she was coping— _if_ she was coping with being stranded in a new country, with a language not her own, living with a bunch of people she used to have to fight against. 

It was kind of a familiar story if he thought about it too long.

Sure, Barton had taken her under his wing, but he wasn’t always around, especially not now. Not with the Sokovia Accords in play and that deal he cut with the government. He had a family to think about— a life, a home outside of the state. He couldn’t be stuck in the Compound 24/7. Not like Bucky already was.

Not like Wanda was forced to.

And sure, no one had tasked him to keep an eye out or convinced him not to. No one asked him to make note of her tea preferences (milky chai) or how she tried to eat vegetarian most of the time. But he was observant. It was part of his training. And if anyone had asked Bucky, he’d have blamed it on circumstance or timing, maybe even convenience. Anything but the truth. 

Because the truth was, even _he_ didn’t really know why. He didn’t know why that despite all those reasons, all those excuses, he felt like he owed it to her to be decent.

To treat her like a human being.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?” he asked finally, cutting into the silence of both of them sitting on opposite couches in the living area.

Her eyes snapped up to him, green with flecks of brown as if she was trying to judge whether he was actually talking to her or not. Or maybe his voice was so disused she wondered if the question had even come from him at all.

“A walk?” she asked, tone slightly disbelieving.

But she had already snapped her book shut, offering him her full attention. The kind that made Bucky shift under her gaze, feeling a little too much like he was being watched. Like he was getting a taste of his own medicine.

Settling on a shrug, he clarified, “To get some air.”

Her hand fell down to the couch, readying to lift herself off when she hesitated, like a thought had popped into her brain, “Am I even allowed?”

Bucky tried to ignore the way her tone twisted his belly, trying to keep his tone as light and airy as it got. “Figure they can’t stop both of us.”

He was mostly joking, counting it as a win when the corner of her lip slipped up in the closest thing he’d seen to a smile on her since she’d arrived.

It was the little things, those tiny slivers of humanity, that made every day feel less like he was stuck in a fishbowl. After all, Bucky’s transition back into society hadn’t been smooth sailing either. After a few months in Wakanda, working through the programming burned into his skull, the thought of getting to be a functioning member of society— and not just some freak show holed up in a containment unit— still felt sorta like a dream.

Wanda crossed the room to meet him, but Bucky didn’t wait— didn’t want to patronize her by being some sort of glorified escort. He wasn’t exactly the welcome wagon. 

With Wanda trailing behind a pace or two, Bucky led the way out the doors, breathing a little more deeply as the fresh air hit. He wasn’t security, and up here, there wasn’t supposed to be all eyes on them anyways. This was supposed to be their escape as they ‘recovered.’

Whatever the fuck that meant.

It didn’t make it feel less like a petting zoo as they followed the curving path around the Compound’s grounds and neared a seating area. The sun was high in the sky, air crisp with the first signs of an early spring, but all Bucky could hear was the chattering just a few yards away. His eyes narrowed at a pair of onlookers, gossiping to themselves as they snuck glances of Bucky and Wanda.

There were always gawkers— the occasional recruit who had enough balls to take the scenic route for a chance to spot either of them in their containment. He’d heard all the rumours, all the names. Former fugitives. Killers. Psychopaths. Didn’t take psychic abilities _or_ super-human hearing to catch wind of it every so often, echoing through the futuristic architecture of the Compound.

But that didn’t make him feel any better about this, not when he was just trying to make the poor girl feel a little better—a little more human. 

Locking his jaw, he huffed a breath and stepped a few feet towards them, feeling a little better as they visibly flinched, “Hey!” Bucky all but snarled, voice booming out towards the tree-line, “Wilson know you’re slacking?”

The agents, wide-eyed and stiff, bolted in the opposite direction at Bucky’s call, heading back towards the training grounds and out of sight before he could get an answer.

“Thought so,” Bucky muttered to himself before turning to check on Wanda. “Y’alright?”

Jumping slightly at his movement, she was standing just a foot behind him— closer than he’d expected. Especially after having raised his voice and put on the whole macho act. Which, on second thought, might not have been the best face for the welcoming committee.

But Wanda didn’t look perturbed, that same sad look on her face as she told him, “You didn’t have to do that.”

A little stumped by her admittance, Bucky took her in. The way she wouldn’t meet his eyes. How she was willing to shrug it off, pretend it was nothing. He could tell it wasn’t the first time something like that had happened to her— the first time she’d encountered some heckler or nosey agent. 

Instead of fighting her on it the way he wanted to, the way he wanted to tell her it was worth fighting for, Bucky struggled to find some kind of solution as he nodded in concession. Clearly, she didn’t need anyone fighting her battles for her— not when she was so hellbent on not being an imposition. But maybe she’d be more comfortable not so far out in the open.

OK. He could work with that. 

“Here, let’s try this instead.”

New plan.

With a jut of his chin, Bucky rewound them past the outdoor training field and into the building— a stairwell, to be precise. He’d found it his first night back, not being able to sleep and not feeling like being the ghoul practically living in the media room. TV, screens, cellphones. It was all a little too much when he was just trying to get out of his head. When he was just trying to feel like he belonged in the world again.

Sometimes a guy just needed a little fresh air, a little night sky—a little peace and quiet.

After a few levels of climbing the turns, Bucky pried open to the door to reveal the roof, where both of them could overlook the grounds without the worry of prying eyes. Just a sea of green and brown underlining the sky.

There were worse places to be.

“Better?” he asked, carefully gauging her expression.

Wanda was too busy looking around, getting her bearings. He could see her chest rise and fall with deeper breaths— already more at ease with the distance between them and the rest of the Compound.

After a beat, she nodded, adding a quiet “Thanks.”

He was ready to leave it at silence if that’s what she wanted.

* * *

And they often did. 

In the weeks that followed, the two would meet on that roof a lot, watching the world they couldn’t join quite yet. Sometimes Wanda brought a book or headphones. Sometimes Bucky brought snacks or surprised Wanda with a hot tea. Sometimes one of them would remember to bring blankets when the chill started to set in the air late in the season.

And though they started out sitting at opposite ends of the roof, they seemed to sit closer and closer together as time went on.

Time still passed. Therapy sessions still happened. Some days were better than others. But they always seemed to have that time together to decompress, to not say anything at all. To let the look of fear in their eyes, the uncertainty bleed through without fear of being forced to talk about it or dredge up trauma. The two of them had this quiet understanding—the two outcasts, fixing themselves with scotch tape and rooftop chats in hushed tones.

It would be a while until they were both cleared for training, several tests between them, and they would each have private training sessions with other team members. While Bucky worked with Sam and Steve, Natasha took Wanda under her wing.

They never talked about their sessions— Bucky _still_ didn’t really know what she _did_ exactly — but there was that question of whether they’d ever see a mission again.

He’d asked Sam once why they never trained together, and he just laughed at him.

“Buck— she’s not going to learn if you hit all the targets for her.”

He hardened his jaw, brows furrowed as he tried to push back the heat surging towards his face at the implication. It’s not like he would have done that, right? Bucky knew Wanda could take care of herself, logically. She’d made it this far, after all. Held her own against evil robots, with some international government agency calling her the equivalent of a nuclear weapon at the end of it all.

But it was just so hard to imagine that she could be that dangerous— as dangerous as he was— had been. 

So he shot back a “Fine.” A little gruffer than he’d intended.

Bucky let it go, but he didn’t have to like it.

* * *

The first mission they were sent on together, as a team with the rest of them, wasn’t local. They flew across the Atlantic to a remote European village in Slovakia to tear down a suspected Hydra splinter cell— experimentation, weapons manufacturing, the whole gambit.

Wanda seemed in good spirits, laughing with Sam on the QuinJet ride over. They had outfitted her and everything, taking on a deep red colour that shone like a beacon— at least to Bucky. 

He, for the most part, had tried to fade into the background during team functions. Both had agreed when they signed on that the job came first— but somehow, he always seemed to be drawn to her, like magnets or something. No matter how many people were in the room, his eyes were only on Wanda.

It was after the mid-air mission brief that Bucky sidled up to her, just shy of their shoulders touching as he caught her eye.

“How about we make things interestin’? Since this is our first official mission and all?”

Wanda’s lips twisted into a grin, “Interesting, _how_ , Sergeant?”

Something about her using his title made his stomach flip a little, and he couldn’t help but mirror her smile.

“How about a little friendly competition?” Bucky shot back with a flash of teeth. “First to ten?”

Wanda raised her brow, eyeing him curiously. Or maybe she was mulling it over, her gaze dipping down to the gun at his hip, drifting down to his ankle. There was a beat of silence before she replied.

“How about twenty?” she asked, sticking out her hand, silver rings glinting in the light.

Bucky couldn’t help but notice her tone was more challenging than he’d anticipated, but he gladly shook on it anyway, “Deal.”

With the agreement out of the way, Bucky returned to Sam’s side, wondering why exactly he had a smirk plastered across his face. He had tried to drown out the snickering over the hum of the plane while they had worked out their deal, figuring it was some stupid inside joke.

So Bucky sounded a little more exasperated than he meant to when he asked him a pointed “What?”

Sam snorted, “You’ve never seen her in action, have you?”

Bucky’s eyes darted between Sam and Wanda, who, on second glance, did look a little too confident in their deal. Huffing out a breath, he slumped against the wall of the QuinJet, sinking into a seat.

“... I’m assuming I just made a very bad bet.”

Sam just laughed, reaching down to clap him on the back, “Good luck, man.”

But Bucky was sure he could turn his luck around. 

The facility they’d been sent to was in ruins. It was easy to spot at touchdown—some pre-war factory type deal. Too many floors, no windows left, and a bunch of busted concrete and steel to navigate through. God, he was so sick of these venues. So many little hidey-holes the rats could scurry into.

He glanced over at Wanda before they headed onto the feel, exchanging reassuring smiles as they each went their own way.

“ _You still with me, Sergeant?_ ” she asked through comms.

He chuckled, “We still have a wager, little witch.”

And from then on in, Bucky would hear Wanda’s voice in his ear every few minutes, sounding a little more confident with every target she took down. He was trying to stay focussed on the task at hand, but every so often, Bucky could see the red swirl of magic in the distance, a sign she was nearby.

He even got to see it up close once or twice— the way her eyes glowed red, tendrils extending past her body, tossing grown men around like rag dolls.

Turning to Bucky with a smile, seeing right through the crowd to do it, she spoke into her earpiece, “ _That’s six._ ”

He couldn’t help but mirror her proud grin as he pressed the button on his comms in return, “For the record, I’ve got four.”

But it was only three minutes later when she added to her toll, “ _Make that sixteen._ ”

“Two more,” he huffed, still catching his breath from the pair.

“ _And that makes twenty-four._ ”

Show off. Not that he didn’t deserve it, making uneducated bets and underestimating her abilities. Sam was right; Wanda was fine on her own. He managed to catch a glimpse of her victory run, awestruck at the flicker of red in her normally hazel eyes, his lips unable to keep the smile from stretching across his face.

“How about we stop keeping score, little witch?”

He could almost hear the smirk in her voice, “ _But it’s so much fun._ ”

And it went like that, back and forth for a little while in each other’s ears. Little quips and teases on their private channel. Which was maybe why the prolonged silence on the other end a few minutes later made him feel a little itchy.

“Wan?” he called out, eyes darting around corners, trying to spot her or her magic.

But he heard it before he saw it, the cry of pain that Bucky hoped he’d never have to. Bucky Barnes raced towards it, rounding corners faster than he could see them, his footsteps echoing down the corridors until he could hear it. The zaps. Electricity. Probably enough voltage to knock even _him_ out from the sound of it.

“Requi— assist-ance…” Wanda managed to groan into her comms as they jabbed at her with a rod.

The bastards were circling their prey, backs turned to Bucky as Wanda struggled to get herself off the ground. They’d probably hidden out in one of the countless dark corners in this place, ganging up on her with energy weapons. Assholes.

Bucky didn’t give them a second’s warning, taking them out with four clean shots to the head, bodies dropping just as the last one standing realized how fucked he was— for the last two seconds of his life.

Once the coast was clear, Bucky dropped to his knees beside her, pushing back her hair to find her eyes. Unfocussed, tired, but open. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’ve got Wanda,” Bucky confirmed into his earpiece, freehand on her cheek as her gaze settled on his. “You OK?”

She groaned, clutching her right shoulder as she started to lift herself off the floor, “They just caught me off guard. I can take care of myself, you know.” 

He was honestly amazed she was conscious, never mind standing both arms still at his side in case she needed help. Clutching her head as she blinked away the pain, Wanda steadied herself with the nearby wall.

“I know. I didn’t before, but I know now,” Bucky assured, offering a jerky nod as he shoved his hands in his pockets, accepting she wasn’t about to ask him for help or thank him— not that she needed to. “But you shouldn’t have to go at it alone all the time.”

Wanda’s eyes softened, the red wisps clearing to reveal those hazel eyes, greener than anything today. Before Bucky knew what was happening, she surged forward, wrapping her arms around his middle for a hug. After getting over the shock of contact, Bucky sunk his fingers into her scalp, relieved when she melted into his hold.

Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, Bucky murmured in her ear.

“I’ll always have your back, Wan.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. All comments, kudos and bookmarks are loved and cherished.
> 
> This fic was a prompt. You can find my [prompt list and details here](https://pasmonblog.tumblr.com/post/635410523601649664) if you're interested in adding to my WIP list (please do).


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